


On the Edge

by Smades87



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/M, Some fluff (because you have to have a little)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smades87/pseuds/Smades87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has questions.  He wants answers.  An unknown link.  What happens when you pull on opposite ends of the same string?</p>
<p>An original story concept starting literally from the end of The Winter Soldier.  Contains TWS spoilers, so read at your own risk.  Also is a somewhat linear progression from my previous fic, All Fall Down.  This isn't a sequel per se, but rather carries on as if that missing scene were actually in the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a multi chapter original work. I reimagined the final five minutes of the movie to fit my needs for this story. Also, as I said in the summary, this is linear to my other fic, All Fall Down. This will make sense towards the end of the first chapter. I'll try and post updates as regularly as possible.
> 
> Lastly, I apologize as always for typos or errors. I edited before posting, but it's late and I don't trust my brain.

The dirt was still fresh at Nicholas Fury's grave. Flowers lined the plot, offering a splash of color amid the sobering cemetery tones.

"If anyone asks for me, tell them they can find me right here." A sunglasses clad Fury nodded his head toward the split earth. Steve and Sam chuckled.

"You should consider yourself lucky, that's as close as he gets to thank you."

Steve wandered to his right a few steps to meet his partner. "Not going with him? Not staying here?"

Romanoff shakes her head, "No, I blew all my covers. I've got to go think up a new one."

"That could take some time."

"Oh I'm counting on it." She paused, measuring the brief change in his expression. It was quick, like a passing cloud, "Remember that favor you asked? I pulled a few strings." She handed him a manilla file. The heavy black ink of foreign words covered the front. Polish she knew and assumed he would too. "Now will you do me a favor? Ask that nurse out across the hall?"

Steve smiled a little, "She's not a nurse."

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

"What was her name?"

"Sharon. She's nice."

Instead of replying, Steve simply gave a slight nod. Natasha held his gaze, reading from his eyes the emotions he hadn't put into words. Regret snaked through her body. She leaned towards him, meaning to kiss his cheek, to offer a futile apology. Instead his hands found her waist and held her in place, their faces inches apart.

"Come by my apartment before you leave." His voice was low, so Sam couldn't over hear them.

"Steve...I don't think that's such a good idea right now."

"I'm asking, as a favor. Just do it."

"Steve..." her voice held a slight edge, almost a warning.

He ignored it, "30 minutes. Be there." He turned and crossed the freshly manicured grass to Sam in three swift strides. The two of them chatted and flipped through the folder before heading off in the direction of the main gate. Sam threw her a quick wave as they walked away, a gesture she returned. Steve, however, didn't look back.

**********

She leaned a shoulder against the cheap brown veneer of the door, arms crossed, "You're late Rogers."

He fished a key ring out of his pocket, "Got caught in traffic. I figured you'd let yourself in anyway. Since when did you need a key?"

She stepped back and let him open the door, "I thought I'd give this whole respect for personal privacy thing a whirl. See how it feels." She pushed the door to behind them.

Steve dropped his bag on the floor by the door and grinned, "I'm impressed." He flipped on a lamp and pointed to the couch, "Grab a seat, want a drink?"

She shook her head, "Steve? Why am I here?"

He leaned against the apartment's small snack bar and crossed his arms, "Next you should work on small talk. Yours seems to be a little rusty."

A smile came across her face, "I'll see if I can fit it in my schedule."

"Good. But since you asked, you're here because I wanted to see you," he crossed the room to stand in front of her, close enough they were almost touching, and tucked a stray strand of red hair behind her ear, "And because I have something to give you."

Natasha reached out and ran teeth of his jacket zipper through her thumb and index finger. The last two weeks had changed her, probably more than anything else had in her life. She no longer felt shy or uncomfortable about their "little" touches, as she had taken to calling them. A part of her still rebelled at completely letting her guard down and probably always would, but Steve understood that. Or at least she hoped he did. She shifted her attention away from his jacket, "Steve, please don't try and talk me out of leaving," her hand dropped back to her side, "I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you if you do." A flashback from their first night at Sam's house played across her mind. His lips covering hers, so gently, as if the two had met a thousand times. She had been broken then, exposed and vulnerable, not for the first time. But it was the first time someone hadn't used her vulnerability for their own personal gain.

Steve smiled, still playing with the errant twig, "Relax Nat. I know you have go. I'm not going to lie and say I want you to go, but I understand. I just wanted to give you this." He pulled a small folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and pressed it into her palm. "Read it later, some place quiet so you can focus on what it says."

"A note?" she tried to unfold one of the careful creases, but he stopped her.

"Later. Read it later. One more thing."

"What?"

"This," he unleashed so slowest, sweetest kiss she had ever felt.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thanks for all the comments and reads guys! I really appreciate it! Second, I'm not going to lie, my comic book knowledge is limited to The Avengers, Thor and both Captain America movies (Iron Man series is on my list). I am researching as I write this, but the Marvel world is enormous and crazy, so if you see something different from the comic books, I apologize. And as always, ignore the typos that I didn't catch during editing. I had some problems getting the text formatted like I want. I type this in my word processor and then copy/paste it onto here. I'll switch it up next update.

 Three hours later Natasha sat in  the terminal of Dulles International airport, a plain black briefcase open across her lap.  She shuffled through the contents, just an another ordinary business woman on her way home from some corporate level board meeting.  Except of course she wasn't.  The papers in her briefcase weren't spread sheets or graphs, they were SHIELD files she and Fury had stolen during the previous week of chaos.  She smiled, briefly taking in the memory of how  Steve had justified their stolen car as "borrowed."  Her hand moved instinctively across the folded square he had given her.  She had still not read it.

  
 The inside of the briefcase appeared ordinary and benign to the average eye.  In reality it was a Tony Stark specialty.  The inner bottom opened to reveal a lead lined compartment big enough she could stash sensitive materials, but not big enough to bring attention at any security check points.  She removed a passport from the compartment and replaced it with a manila file similar to the one she had given Steve earlier.  Inside where pages lined with heavy blotched ink.  All in Russian, some of it hard to read, even for her.  SHIELD's dossier on her.  She opened the passport and checked her appearance against the small photo.  Perfect. 

  
 After she'd left Steve's apartment she'd gone back to her own.  Inside the walk in closet adjacent to her bedroom, she'd used a tape measure to calculate the exact center of the lower right quadrant of the wall, then carefully pushed a standard screw driver straight through the sheet rock to make three holes.  It wasn't difficult to do because this wasn't the original wall.  She had cut this section out and patched it herself when she moved in a few months back.  Next she easily ran a fist through the section of wall weakened by the three holes in the center.  She fished around inside of the hole until her hand closed around the plastic of a Ziploc bag.  Right where she had left it.  She took the bag to her small bathroom and opened it.  Inside was a passport and papers, everything she would need to prove her identity, a pair of professional looking eye glasses, one set of brown colored contact lenses and a black wig.  Every good spy had an emergency cover.

  
  The loud speaker burbled to life over head, calling her flight number.  She rose and moved towards the gate.  She was going back to Russia.  Back home.

  
     **********

  
 Steve and Sam sat at the table in Sam's apartment, the dossier Natasha had given them was covering its round surface.  Steve laid down a stack of pages and rubbed his forehead.

  
 "Russian isn't my strong suit."

  
 "You said that before about the Polish," Sam nodded to a different stack of papers laying on the far side of the table.

  
 "Yeah well you sound pretty confident for someone who only reads English,"  He leaned back in his chair.

  
 "I already told you what I thought.  While you were asking favors your should have had Natasha translate this for you."

  
 The mention of her name caused made Steve's mouth go dry.  He had been trying to keep her off his mind since she had left earlier.  Never had anyone caused him so much internal struggle.  Normally he could assess any situation and make near instantaneous decisions.  Decisions he never questioned because, while they weren't necessarily the easiest or most convenient, they were the right decisions.  That knowledge gave him peace.  He did not have that peace regarding Natasha's departure.  Externally he had managed to remain calm while bidding her goodbye, internally he was on fire.  Doubt rose inside of him, and regret pooled in his stomach like bile.

   
 "Cap?  You okay?"  Sam was standing behind the sink looking at him.  Steve hadn't noticed he had moved.

  
 "Yeah, I'm fine.  Just trying to figure this out," he resumed looking at one of the pages from the file. 

Sam rummaged through the fridge, bringing out a pack of ham and jar of Miracle Whip.  He watched Steve closely while assembling his sandwich.  Sam had always considered himself a pretty intuitive guy, but lately with his PTSD work, had noticed he was good at reading others emotions.  The Captain seemed preoccupied, doubtful, maybe even remorseful.  It wasn't right.  He decided to pry just a little.

  
 "I'm going to ask you something, but it's just a question okay?  Don't answer if you don't want to."

  
 Steve looked over the top of the sheet he was reading, "Alright."

  
 "What's going on with you?"  Sam set his sandwich moved back to his seat at the table.

  
 Steve shrugged, "It's nothing."

  
 "I'm sure it isn't.  Talking always helps though."

  
 "I appreciate it, but I'm fine, nothing out of the ordinary,"  He leaned back, putting his hands in his pockets.  He coiled the delicate chain around his fingers until he felt the tiny sharp point of the arrow.  His mind drifted back to a few hours before.   
  
 _She walked to the door and turned, leaning against it, "I...I want, I need to tell you thank you.  For saving me, for making me see, feel, everything."_

  
 _He shifted closer and shook his head, "You did all that, not me."_

  
_"I couldn't have without you," her eyes met his, "You're different, Steve.  I've never been around someone like you."_

  
_He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes questioningly, "How so?"_

  
_She chuckled, "It'd take me hours to go through all of it.  But you are.  You've seen me through some dark times, especially lately.  Most people want something in return you know?  But you don't.  It's a nice change."  She reached and undid the tiny clasp from behind her neck, "Here," she poured the necklace from her hand into his, "I suppose I shouldn't wear it, just in case someone noticed it before.  Take care of it for me?_

  
_Steve smiled, but couldn't conceal the sadness in his eyes.  She leaned in to him, delivering a brief chaste kiss, her fingers swam through his hair, "Hey, keep your chin up soldier."_

  
_Then she was gone._  
  
 Steve sighed and looked back up, Sam was watching him closely, he chose his words carefully, "I've always cared about my team.  Their safety.  But this is different."

  
 Sam nodded, understanding, "It's personal with her."  Steve's eyes jumped, and locked onto his, confirming his suspicions, "Hey it's okay man.  I'm not going to say anything to anyone."

  
 "I just wish I knew where she was going and why.  Not because I doubt her abilities, but because she might find trouble.  She doesn't have an extraction team anymore if something happens."

  
 "She didn't say where she was going?"

  
  "No.  I have a guess, but that's it."

  
 "Russia?"

  
 Steve nodded.

  
 "You know, half these records are in Russian," Sam shrugged, "Might be a good place to start."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next couple of chapters will be single character centric but I hope these are interesting and bearable because they contain quite a bit of information for the later chapters when the Romanogers action will be back. So, don't give up on me :)

Six hours into their flight the woman sitting next to Natasha mercifully fell asleep. She had insisted on talking incessnantly while conscious, and while Natasha knew the woman was only trying to calm her nerves, it did start to grate on her own nerves after awhile. She made a mental note not to disturb her. Not only was the woman quiet now, but she wouldn't be able to pry at anything Natasha did. Her mind flew to the note in her jacket pocket. She eased a hand in and slid her fingers over the paper, feeling the corners bend slightly against her touch. Part of her wanted to read the note, had wanted to read the note the moment she stepped out of his apartment. The other part wanted to shred it, burn it, never see it again. The note scared her. She was afraid of what it might say; even more so, she was afraid of what it might not say. She sighed inwardly. The real problem was she couldn't shut Steve out like she did with everyone else. Her usual generic justifications didn't work when it came to him. It was a new problem, and deep down, she thought she might actually enjoy it, even if she wasn't ready to admit it.

She slid the note from her jacket and smoothed it across her lap, ready to be done with the nervous dread stowed in the pit of her stomach. Two sentences in Steve's neat and careful print filled the center of the page:

_Remember, whatever you find, what you've done is not who you are. Come back to me when you are ready._

She sat stunned. Whatever she had expected -a page long confessional of his yearning desire for her, or worse yet, his small clinical block letters explaining how friendship was all he really wanted- those two sentences had not been it. A relieved smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Instead, in 20 words, Steve had reminded her that he still had her back. And always would.

***************

Natasha sat on the edge of her rented bed in Volgograd. The room she had chosen was small and plain. She could see all four corners at all times. There was no balcony, too inviting for any unwanted visitors, but there was a small window in case she needed an emergency exit. Because it was on the back side of the hotel and didn't offer a sweeping view of the city, the room was low priced. An added bonus. Not that she didn't have personal funds, but it was easier to explain long stays in a cheap room than in a suite.

She removed the false bottom from her briefcase and pulled out an ordinary looking flip phone. A staple for all SHIELD agents in the field. Like most phones carried by undercover agents, this one was untraceable and programmed with a single number. It wouldn't dial out to any other number and wouldn't recieve any other calls. Unlike most undercover phones however, this one was designed to look defective. The outer case was battered and scratched. The inner face was cracked. The buttons were unresponsive. To an unsuspecting person, it was a pile of junk not worth keeping. Natasha pressed her index finger onto the round "OKAY" button in the center of the directional keys. The screen came to life. Stark had outfitted the phones with a finger print scanner. Only her print would activate this phone. She hit the green call button and listened to the ringing in her ear. A gruff voice answered on the fourth ring.

"How is the weather?"

"Warm and sunny," she replied. It was a generic code, but simple and to the point. Not everything in the world of espionage had to be complicated.

"Good. Scared the hell out of me." Fury's voice was stern, but fatherly.

"Didn't mean to." She kicked off her shoes and sat cross legged on the bed.

"What's up then. Don't tell me you called on this line just to ask how my day is."

She smiled, "Hardly. Although I'm sure you're having a blast. I need to give someone my status."

His reply was troubled, "And that is?"

"Home land."

A sigh was all he offered in reply. Natasha felt a small twinge of guilt inside. Despite his status as her superior, Nick had always treated her as an equal. They were both spies with dark pasts. And they had both trusted each other when they had no one. "It's not what you think, sight seeing, nothing active." she added.

"It's dangerous. I have nothing. No team. No back up. No extraction. All I can do is listen to you suffer, if I'm lucky."

"I said nothing active. But I need to know. I have to know."

"You have your file?"

She looked at the papers spread across her lap. The road map of her life, full of streets and alleys she had no recollection of, "Yes."

"Damn it. You don't know what you're walking in to. Give me time to find Barton. At least take a wingman."

"No. No wingman. I've got to do this alone." She could hear more cursing under his breath.

"I want a status report every night then. Do you understand? Every night. 2100."

Instinctively she balked, "I can'-"

"That wasn't a suggestion. Either I get a status report or I'll have Barton there by sunrise. Understood?"

She gave in, "Alright, 2100. But give me an hour leadway before you panic. And I need a favor."

"By all means, please continue," there was humor underneath the sarcasm.

"If..." her voice caught, overcome by a sudden pulsation of emotion, "If something happens, I don't want Barton."

"...Understood."

 


	4. Chapter 4

One Month Later:

Steve Rogers lay on his back staring at the ceiling. The mattress was hard and unforgiving under him and his feet stuck out four inches past the foot board. A couple of feet away he could hear Sam tossing and turning, apparently not the recipient of a luxurious bed either.

Three weeks abroad had led to minimal information as to what happened to Bucky after his fall off the train. According to the dossier, Zola had been given an experimental facility near the Polish/Ukrainian border, on the outskirts of Lutowiska. His initial experiments with Bucky had occured there. Steve also suspected this was the site of the cryogenisis, but couldn't prove it. And, after a week of searching in and around Lutowiska he and Sam had turned up nothing.

The Russian portion of the files seemed to indicate that Bucky was moved to a KGB strong hold in Volgograd and hidden for years before he was eventually trained by the Soviets. But nearly two weeks in Russia hadn't gleaned any new information either. Steve found himself frustrated because he didn't really know what he was looking for. These buildings, facilities, wouldn't be advertised as such and he had no way of infiltration in a country where he stood out conspicuously and could barely conversationally speak the language. Dejected he had called off the search until he could get ahold of more specific intel. He and Sam had taken a flight to Zurich earlier and would take a flight back to New York the next day.

He threw his hands behind his head and shifted, trying to get comfortable, allowing his mind to drift to its favorite subject. Her. Two weeks in Russia and he hadn't seen her either. Not that he had expected to. Not that he even knew who to look for anymore. But still disappointment settled over him. It had been a month since he had last seen her. A month since he had known she was safe. He sighed and turned on his side.

"If you close your eyes and use your imaginination you can almost make the bed feel soft." Sam said from his own bed.

Steve laughed, "My imaginination must not be powerful enough."

A beat of silence fell between the two before Sam spoke again, quieter and more serious this time, "You know, it's crazy, but I really thought we would have seen her in Russia."

"I did too. I don't know why, but I did too."

Sam propped up on his elbow and looked at Steve over the cheap nightstand between the two beds, "Have you read her file?"

It was an innocent question, but Steve still felt anger rise up from his chest. It wasn't directed at Sam, but rather at all the people who had read her file and who had judged her based on it, "No."

Sam said nothing for a moment, then continued, "I did."

Steve froze, jolted at first, then angry again, this time at Sam, "And?"

"Easy man, I'm not passing judgement on anyone. You should read it.  Prepare yourself."

Steve sat up and stared at him, "I don't need to prepare myself. I don't care wh-"

"It's not for you," Sam sat up too, "It's for her. Some of that stuff man..." he shook his head, "Some of it's heavy Steve. If she really is off trying to find her past, then she's going to need a rock.  And you are her rock, we both know it. But you need to understand that you can't look shocked when she opens up. If you do, it will break her. If she trusts you like that, it will break her. You need to be prepared."

Steve looked down at his hands, "It feels like betrayal though. Like I'm spying on her."

"Is there anything you could read that would change how you feel about her?"

"No."

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, "Then all I'm saying is for you to think about it. Do what you want, but at least give it some serious thought."

Steve laid back down and resumed staring at the ceiling, his thoughts troubled.

 


End file.
